An Earthling's Guide
by LadyoftheDrow
Summary: Inspired by a convo with LadyoftheMuses. I've been dropped into Gaea with no way home. I wonder how long I can survive? Insert fic. Secondary characters include: Genesis, Angeal, Sephiroth, Lazard, Kunsel, and various Turks. SI. Minor AU.
1. Tip 1

**AN EARTHLING'S GUIDE****  
>Tip 1: Cold = Danger<strong>

_The Coldest places on Gaea are also some of the most dangerous. Though standing still in the Northern Crater can kill you in seconds, moving isn't that much better. The North is filled with high-level monsters due to a lack of civilization to cull them. Then there's the Nibel Mountains, not only cold, but highly treacherous, if you aren't very strong, or very fast, you'll wind up a meal for a Dragon. _

_Pg. 5, __**"The Survivalist"**_

* * *

><p><em>Right back here. <em>I reached up and turned on the panel light dangling overhead and then crouched at the corner of the desk. Even with the additional lighting, it was still a little too dim in the corner; I pushed my chalkboard a few inches and grinned as I laid eyes on the barrel.

A good fifty years old, minimum, it was painted black, and I knew there was a floral pattern painted on one side. It was only maybe two feet tall, and I was pretty sure it had been used by my great-grandmother Mary for yarn. The lid was icy under my fingers, and came off easily, no longer a perfect fit.

I tipped it over, looking inside, and saw light reflecting off the golden lettering and seal of the paperback dictionary I'd place there the previous fall. My fingers ghosted over the paper edges, then touched cold, hard plastic.

_I found it!_

Releasing a low squeak of delight, I quickly pulled out the case to bring it under the light, my anticipation rising as my eyes fell on the image I expected. A SOLDIER standing before the walls of Midgar, Buster Sword in hand . . . my _Original Copy _of Crisis Core.

I remembered spending half my Christmas cash on it the year it came out. I didn't own a PSP, but I'd known I'd wanted it since I'd first caught a glimpse of a commercial the previous spring. Some might have considered it a dumb buy, as I could've waited and got it for cheaper once I actually got a PSP, but I hadn't wanted to spend the time hunting for it later.

It had sat, plastic-wrapped with the receipt, in a cooler I used for storage _for eleven months. _Then, on my 19th birthday, I unwrapped the Guidebook, and my next present was revealed to be the 1000 model PSP, fondly known as the Brick. Needless to say, my first act after thanking my parents was to go upstairs, find the game, and set the System to charge.

Only a few months ago, I'd accidentally left my second copy – purchased when the first had been misplaced in the move – at a friend's house and had yet to set up a rendezvous to get it back. Only the other night had it occurred to me that my original copy was possibly still in the barrel, where I'd placed it for safekeeping after it'd been found.

The plastic was icy under my fingers, chilled completely through from the March weather. I opened the case, and grinned further at the sight of the UMD resting inside. _Yes! Finally! I can play it again._

Snapping it shut, I stood and turned off the secondary light, holding the game to my chest before turning to head upstairs. My bare feet were starting to chill from the cold cement beneath them . . .

_Cold._

I shivered, a wash of cold running through me, for a moment, I could've sworn I felt a winter breeze. Shaking it off, I took a few brisk steps towards the far side of the basement. I needed to share the good news with Calli, then I'd try to write, and play the game before bed.

_Cold. _

I stilled almost immediately at the sensation of rough stone under my feet. I had to glance down to confirm I was still standing on the flat cement.

I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise as I glanced about. Everything _looked _normal . . . my fingers tightened about _Crisis Core. 'Looks can be deceiving.' _the paranoid phrase rose to the surface of my mind.

_Crisis Core_ was like ice under my touch.

_Cold._

_Crisis Core _shattered in my fingers, shards of cold pain digging through fabric and into flesh.

I shrieked.

The world darkened and went . . .

_Cold._

* * *

><p>I'm usually pretty good with pain. I stopped throwing tantrums and other useless reactions when I was little. I cut open my finger with a pocket knife when I was seven. I didn't cry, though I think I yelped, because soon enough Mom had wrapped my hand in a dish towel and we were driving to the hospital. I remember watching in curiosity as the skin was stitched together.<p>

I don't moan and groan when I'm sick with a nasty fever.

I don't speak up when I have a headache.

I don't cry when I cut myself with a knife.

I keep my head on straight and assess the damage, then treat it if necessary.

Nerve pain, though, that still gets me.

My tremors were half from the _cold _and half from the pain. I didn't doubt I was in some form of shock. It wasn't like I was a hardened warrior trained to react in shocking situations. And I was pretty sure that having a game case explode in my hands and my basement transform into a mountain top could be considered a shocking situation.

I could feel the bite of the rough stone in my knees through the thick denim of my jeans. I could feel the harsh night air on my face and neck. I could feel the pain of infinitesimal crystal shards imbedded in my flesh like a million shards of ice. I could feel blood trickling down my chin, down my chest, down my arms.

It _hurt _like _hell._

I fought back the urge to vomit along with the urge to cry. Pressing my good hand to my mouth, I concentrated on the cold in order to steady myself. Breathe in. Breathe out. Still shaky, I lowered my hand and touched the pinpricks on the left side of my face. Oddly enough, I couldn't feel anything under my fingers, just the warm slickness of blood. Pulling my fingers away, I saw the red I expected, but far less than I thought. A glance down revealed that though the fabric was dark and damp with blood, it hadn't noticeably torn it.

Shakily, I got to my feet, glancing about my surroundings for my bearings. Reaching out to my side where there should have been a bookshelf, I met with no resistance. The terrain about me was dark with night. The glow of stars and a waxing crescent moon illuminated an alarming landscape of dark spires in every direction.

Listening, I couldn't hear the sounds of a city, or any civilization for that matter. Neither could I see that faint localized luminescence on the horizon that would speak of a city. The only sound that met my ears was the whispers and whistles of the wind.

I shivered.

Part of me wished I had finally cracked and was now hallucinating. A really damn detailed hallucination. I knew I wasn't though, hallucinations have the same quality as dreams right? My dreams were few and far between, but . . . not once in my memory had I mistaken a dream for reality.

This was real.

"Shit."

* * *

><p>After a good string of swears in four different languages, I'd gathered myself together and done a more physical sweep of my surroundings. I'd found what seemed to be a footpath only a few meters from where I'd appeared, and set along it at a even pace; slow enough to maintain my energy, but fast enough to build up a bit of heat to fend off the chill in the air.<p>

I was immensely glad of the lack of cloud cover, both for the night light it left me, and the fact that I really didn't want to deal with snow. It was bad enough that I was padding along the mountain path and risking frostbite or injury to my bare feet. Snow would just make the chance of frostbite rise exponentially.

Then I'd seen my first dragon.

Dragons are awesome, you know? The idea of a giant lizard that can fly and hoards treasure and breathes fire or acid or ice had always seemed purely magnificent. The idea of something holding that much power inside it . . .

Of course, dragons don't seem quite so awesome when you're running full tilt along a mountain path in the dark with one tearing down _right behind you._

Then I ran off a cliff.

That was stupid.

In my defense, I didn't literally run off it, I slowed to a lope and twisted with the intent of _climbing _down, but misjudged my speed and traction. Needless to say, I slipped over the edge.

Scrambling for purchase as I fell through the air, my hands connected and grasped something protruding from the side of the cliff. My body jerked to a stop.

_Crack._

"Shiiiit!" I hissed out as I was falling again.

And then I stopped again. This time it was a bit more painful, my body slamming into a ledge with a force that made my bones ache. Seeing a small opening, far too small for the dragon to enter, I rolled and scrambled inside. Deeper and deeper into the darkness I moved until I found the back of the alcove. Exhausted, and in pain twice over, I stilled as the sound of the dragon's roar reached my ears.

The air burned as the dragon threw fire into the darkness, and my world lit up, just for a moment. Red and orange and yellow filled my vision. Then they were replaced by blue and green and white . . .

. . . why am I still alive?

I was still cold, still in pain, my hand still clenched about the object that had slowed my fall with a death-tight grip. But the cold wall of the cavern alcove was no longer pressed against my back, instead I felt the familiar bite of tree bark. Casting about with both ears and eyes, I found I could see the stars overhead, and draconic snarls and growls of hunger and rage were replaced with the sounds of crickets and wind rustling tree branches.

I inched to my feet, making one last wary sweep with my eyes to make sure there wasn't another dragon or some other beast about to take off my head in a single bite. A weight in my hand reminded me of what I snatched, and I lifted it off the ground to get a better look under the light of the stars.

A _sword._ I gaped slightly, eyes running over the dark edge. There was something familiar about the shape, how it widened like a wedge into a broad rounded tip. It was lighter than I expected, and even more surprising, it seemed to be balanced properly to my novice's eye. At a guess, I would assume the core of the grip was made of a heavier material, and that the narrow pommel was made of the heaviest material of all to compensate for the weight of the blade.

Even though it was lighter than it appeared, it was still heavier than I knew I could manage in my current state. Shaking my head, I carefully swung it up onto my shoulder so that my body could take more of the weight. I turned my attention to the only notable landmark.

A great spire towered into the air, smooth and narrow, it seemed more like something made by human hands than the work of shifting tectonic plates and the sands of time. It was slow going, the burn of abused muscles slowing my normal brisk amble to a tired saunter. I counted the seconds, the minutes, listening warily to my surroundings.

Fifteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds, and two panic attacks later . . .

I stared at the wooden gate in a combination of relief and incredulity. Nearly twenty feet tall, the upper edge of both wall and gate was adorned by a line of wicked looking metal spikes. Too smooth to climb anyway. Before I could become too perturbed by the obvious _closed _state of the gate, I heard voices on the other side and it started to creak open.

"Hey! You alright there?"

People. Speaking _English. _I released a sigh of utter relief but couldn't quite bring myself to shout back, waving with my free hand at the lantern-bearing figure standing in the meter-wide opening. As I neared, I saw the man wasn't much older than I was, only in his mid-twenties, his pale eyes wide in disbelief as he looked over my body.

"_Minerva_, you've been through the ringer, lady." He shook his head and gestured me inside, pulling the gate shut and lowering a thick brace to lock it in place. "Oi! I'm walking her over to the Inn, be back as soon as she's settled in."

"I don't have any money on me." I protested quietly, fingers tightening around my new weapon as paranoia rose again. He _seemed _like a kind man . . .

He brushed off my words, "My cousin's the owner, and it's not like she has any paying customers tonight anyway. You can work out a deal with her in the morning."

I followed him in silence, concentrating on my footsteps and not dropping the sword that was becoming a growing weight on my shoulder. He led me across the dirt street through a sturdy set of doors, through a foyer, and into a kitchen. Hitting a switch on the wall, the room filled with light even as he shut off the lantern.

"Okay, I guess that _wasn't _dirt." I snapped my gaze back to his to find his blue eyes wide as they trailed from my face to my shirt. "Is that _your _blood."

"Yes." Glancing down self-consciously, I lowered the sword from my shoulder and rested it against the tiled floor. In the fresh light, it was blatantly apparent that my shirt was darkened, the blood now dry and crusty and turned the maroon fabric black. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"You sure you're okay? I mean . . ." he frowned, then shook his head. "I suppose if you're tough enough to cross the Nibel Range by yourself, you're tough enough to know your limits. I'll go find you a room key."

I didn't even notice him walk past me again, too lost in realization.

Nibel Range? Dragons? Inns?

I glanced down at the sword in my hand, lifting it once more into the air to examine it under the new light. It was a bit rusty, but I could make out the runes engraved down it's length, the four evenly spaced slots on the round hilt. It had been one of my favorite swords . . . Rune Blade.

_Dear God, no, Dear _**Minerva**,_ I'm . . . I'm on Gaea. Those were the Nibel Mountains! This is . . . that monolith, the ShinRa Rocket, Rocket Town . . . the Rocket's still here, it hasn't been launched yet. Meteorfall hasn't happened yet . . ._

"I'm going to die."

* * *

><p><strong>Written to – "Do You See Me Now?" <strong>by_ Angtoria. _**"Lost"** by _Red_

**Written – April 8****th****, 2011**

**Posted - June 29, 2011  
><strong>

**Word Count – 2,565**


	2. Tip 2

**AN EARTHLING'S GUIDE****  
><strong>**Tip 2: Gil is Optional**

_A traveler doesn't need money to survive and flourish. There's always some way you can earn your bed and bread, and some coin besides, be it culling local monsters, helping with upkeep, or even babysitting children. As long as you have your health, you can continue living, so never give up, ever._

_Pg. 18, "The Survivalist"_

* * *

><p>Life-changing knowledge has a way of knocking you out of your mind. I don't remember anything after figuring out where I had ended up. For all I know, I could have fainted and been carried to bed. If anything could finally knock me off my feet for once, it was that.<p>

When I did wake, it was to an afternoon sun, gnawing hunger, and an aching body. The room was small, and meagerly furnished, but the door to one side revealed a small bathroom. It was only equipped with a toilet and sink, but I spotted a large washtub resting against the cabinet before I glanced in the mirror

A pale-skinned brunette stared back at me with tired eyes. I half expected to see some stranger, but the drained and dirty face reflected back was still mine. In fact, part of me had expected to see Tifa or Lucrecia looking back at me. Scowling and shaking my head, I stripped off my tops and reached for the washcloth lying on the edge of the sink. The pale terrycloth quickly turned an ugly brown as I washed away every speck I could find.

Despite the blood I'd shed, I could still find no injury, almost as if it hadn't been my blood. That initial pain was mostly gone, just a lingering ache to join the forming bruises that mapped my arms and side.

It was only when I turned on the bright overhead light and held my arm mere inches from my face that I made out the tiny white pinpricks littering my skin. Appearing only where I still felt that lingering ache of nervous pain . . .

What the hell?

With the blood I'd shed, I should've found small scabbing puncture wounds, not pinprick scars. It didn't make sense, _especially_ as I had yet to be exposed to any healing items. Though, really . . . it was shocking that I was still _alive._

If anything, it was _sheer dumb luck_ that I'd survived traveling in the Nibel mountains, barefoot and bloody and unarmed. "I got chased off a cliff by a _Dragon._" The words drew hysteric laughter from my mouth. "_Someone _must be looking out for me."

"You alright in there?" I jerked at the knock from behind me and glanced over my bare shoulder to find a blond woman looking in at me. "I heard you moving around and brought you some clean clothes. Gary said you came in all bloody."

". . . Thank you." I reached for more to say, but like many times when I chose to remain silent, nothing felt _right_.

"I'll leave them on the bed. Just come out to the kitchen when you're dressed and we can talk about getting you back on your feet again." She paused again, eyes trailing over my injured side, but then gave me a nod and swiftly departed.

She looked so . . . normal.

She looked _human. _Or was it I that looked Gaean? Was there some physiological difference between an Earth Human and a Gaea Human? My mind whirled at the idea, I'd seen the sort of things unenhanced Gaeans were capable of, no _Earthling _I knew of could jump _up _a flight of stairs in a _single _leap like Cloud did in the Nibelheim Reactor. A Cloud who was unenhanced. Though . . . that'd been in the original version, and possibly the result of lazy designers. It had been years since I'd seen Last Order, and I couldn't remember if he jumped or ran.

I ran my fingers through my hair and scowled furiously as I hit tangles, yanking once to free them before returning to the bedroom, furiously picking at the tangles my chaotic night had wrought. I shed my jeans in favor of the softer fabric of a pair of black trousers, tugging an off-white shirt over my head. There weren't any shoes, but I didn't really care, the _grounded _sensation of being barefoot reminding me that this was all _real._

It'd be foolish to forget the sheer magnitude of the danger I was in. On Earth, I really only had to be on the look-out for rapists and the like if I got stranded somewhere. And if I got stranded in the wilderness, I knew enough about nature's predators and foraging to survive for a while. On _Gaea _though, a normal human could get killed far too easily by the wildlife. Really, the only reason I could think of for the Dragon being the first living creature I encountered was that everything else was trying to _avoid _the damn thing and fresh human blood wasn't tempting enough to risk being barbequed.

Thinking of which . . . where the hell is that sword? I glanced about the room, fingers once again picking at my hair, and found the weapon lying atop a dresser. I suppose, if I have to, I can sell it for a cheaper blade that I can actually _use_. I think I remember in the game that you couldn't buy it, only find it, so it might be rare enough to fetch a good price . . .

Wait, did my finding it mean that Cloud hadn't gone to Nibelheim with AVALANCHE yet? I blinked, freezing in the middle of tying my hair back with a stray cord I'd found, and considered that.

The Rocket was still here, so that meant that they hadn't tried to launch it at Meteor yet. Likewise, Meteor wasn't in the sky, so it was _before _the Black Materia was found . . . I tried to remember if it had looked tilted at all, it had _seemed _straight, but then I'd only seen it from one angle, _in the dark._

Whatever . . . I stuffed my musings into a side-compartment of my mind for the moment in favor of more _immediate _issues, my feet leading me down a flight of stairs into the kitchen. The blond from before glanced up from the stove and wiped her hands before holding one out, "Grace Howle."

"Amanda Jones." I shook her hand firmly. "Thank you for the clothes, my own were . . ."

She actually laughed at my grimace, the skin around her green eyes crinkling in mirth, "I'd never begrudge another woman a clean set of clothes, Miss Jones, one should always look her best. Feel free to keep them, I've got plenty of others."

She paused, glancing down at my bare feet, "I didn't have any shoes in your size though, I'm only a twenty-two but you look like a twenty-five or so. If you're any good with sewing, though, you can probably barter a pair off of Helen."

"What about here?" Her casual manner over the whole deal was causing me to relax somewhat, and for that I was grateful, though I'll admit that she was a _woman _and thus less likely to request _favors_ in return for her hospitality had a bit to do with that. Can't blame a girl for being paranoid. Though, it's only paranoia until it _happens._

"Ever work with chamber?"

The odd turn of phrase immediately sparked something familiar in my memory and I smiled back at her curious look. "I have, actually, a few weeks at a place on the beach, just a temp job, but it kept me occupied."

"Well then." She smiled brightly. "Consider yourself hired for the rest of your stay in Rocket Town. You can call that room yours, and join me for meals, and I'll expect you to help out for at least an hour each morning and evening. Cleaning, making up beds, and answering requests from guests. I'll also want you minding the desk in the evenings."

Was it just me, or did she seem a little _too _happy to have an assistant? "Okay."

That settled, she fed me a meal that vaguely resembled an omelet, though for some reason it was green, reminding me of a certain rhyming story-book. After eating, she gave me a run-down of the fine-print of my duties, where the cleaning supplies were, and the Laundry, before practically shoving me out the door with a call to be back before dark.

* * *

><p>The first week in Rocket Town was <em>vicious <em>to put it bluntly. Every morning I swept the Inn from top to bottom, wiped down the counters and the bathrooms. Apparently the only reason my room had an ensuite bathroom was because it was a staff room, where she'd put up an assistant like I had become during the rush season. If a room had been emptied the night before, I also had to strip it down, mop, and wipe down everything. Not to mention going up and down three flights of stairs a good dozen times a day. I went to bed each night aching, but then came the strange part.

Every morning I woke refreshed. Not an ache, not a bit of stiffness . . . It was as if someone had healed me. I'd taken to locking and barricading the door to my room in a fit of paranoia. Even if the oddity was _positive _I didn't want someone or something unknown in my room while I was unaware.

I welcomed the familiar work, and it was familiar, I hadn't lied about working in chamber before. I'd worked out at the Star Island Conference Retreat on the Isle of Shoals at end-of-season once. It was an invigorating time, between the sea air and the work. Though most mornings I had needed to down antihistamines, Excedrin, and coffee to operate at 100%.

Rocket Town had the familiar evergreens of my second home, but it was also close enough to the coastline for sea-side weather. Cold at night, cool in the morning, hot by noon. I fell into the cycling temperatures a little too easily.

I'd taken exercising back up as well, taking advantage of the mysterious healing to do so every day, armed with a pair of encyclopedias as weights, I did: 30 wall push-ups, 20 shoulder presses, as many squats as I could manage, 10 lunges, 20 sit-ups, 20 arm curls, and 50 twists. I rounded it off with fifteen minutes of any Yoga positions I could remember.

As the weeks passed I slowly increased my regimen, testing my limits, and at the end of my second week on Gaea, Grace gave me a pleasant surprise.

I stared at the string of metal rings she placed in my hand, noting they came in multiple colors and were imprinted with some sort of writing . . . Gil? Was this Gil?

"Your share of the profits for the last two weeks." She patted my shoulder. "We didn't have anyone paying in notes, but being a traveler, I thought hard coin might be more handy to you." A small grin curled her thin lips as I didn't respond, and she bodily turned me for the door. "Go on, Anda, spend some, and don't even think of coming back before five o'clock."

It didn't take any more prodding for me to collect my sandals – a knotted leather affair that I personally thought looked more like a dog's chew toy than a pair of shoes, though Gareth had been impressed, I think he was just trying not to get me upset – and head out into the street. I paused for a moment, carefully lifting the string of coins as if checking how much I had, but instead taking the opportunity to do more than that. There were only actually two types of coins, the copper coins were slightly larger, but thinner, embossed with the number 5; while the thicker silver coins were worth 50. All in all . . . there was about _2000 _gil in my hand. Enough for a basic materia and a cheap bangle . . . not that now was the time to indulge in such things.

A stop at Helen's Hems was first on the list, the middle-aged woman was quick to assist me in finding some clothes that were _mine. _A total of 850 gil was spent on general clothing and some proper under things. Another 200 for a pair of sturdy heeled boots in my size, followed by 150 more for a faded red denim jacket. Due to the number of purchases, she'd pulled out a small plain duffle that had seen better years, and neatly packed them away inside for no extra cost. The claim being that it wasn't in a good enough condition to make me pay a single gil.

I was actually a bit surprised to still have 800 gil left over . . . maybe it would be enough to get a cheap sheath and harness for my new Rune Blade.

Not quite.

Finding an appropriate harness in my size at the weapons shop was easy enough, only a shockingly low 50 gil. The sheath itself was another story. As soon as the man heard how _big _the sword was, and that it was a _Rune Blade _and that it was a traditional model and not one of the 'damned cheapskate ShinRa models' that were made of 'subpar materials and shoddy craftsmanship!'_ . . . _well . . . he went on and on about how a blade of such size could only be used with special leatherwork. Either a magnetic crosswork such as used by SOLDIERs, or a Dragon-hide net-catch.

The former was unavailable. The latter would cost a good _2000 _gil for the work alone, never mind the material cost. He'd then suggested that perhaps I would be better off auctioning it through him. At the word _auction _I realized it held more worth than I'd thought. Hadn't it only been worth a few thousand in the original game?

I wasn't about to sell it off, even if it was too heavy for me to wield properly. The bloody thing had likely saved my life up on that mountain. After all, at the speed I was falling . . . I doubtlessly would have injured one or both legs, and _then _how would I have bolted into the cave to hide from that dragon?

We settled on 500 for the purchase and customization of a weapons case, and another 200 for a proper maintenance kit. Censura needed a good cleaning. I hadn't realized until I left with a promise to give him the swords dimensions that I'd given the thing a name. A final 50 was spent on a small journal. Well, it was actually a blank bestiary meant for travelers, but it had plenty of extra space for 'travel notes.'

"Censura . . ." I tested the name, corner of my lips quirking up as I recalled the origin of the name. It meant Judgment in Latin . . . and had been the name of a baby dragon. Pocketing the final 50g, I glanced at a clock and scowled at realizing it was _still _too early to return, barely past four.

_Now _what was I supposed to do?

* * *

><p><strong>Written to – <strong>**"Never Too Late" **by _Three Days Grace_, **"Dreams and Pride"** by _Takeharu Ishimoto  
><em>**Written – July 27th, 2011  
>Posted – October 4th, 2011<strong>  
><strong>Word Count – 2,564<strong>

**A/N: **My sincere apologies for sitting on this so long! I'd set it aside intending to let it 'steep' for a week or so and then completely forgotten about it! T.T However, in other news, I, along with two other FFVII writers on here, have started up a Crisis Core RP Site on Forumotion! Search 'Revolution Crisis Core' and it should be in the first few results. Come and hang out with us, we'd love to have you!**  
><strong>


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